For Guinevere
by fakeituntilyoumakeit
Summary: Merlin and Gwen, picking up the pieces of eachother left behind and finding comfort in feelings once held, and the promise of a tomorrow where they're not alone. Guinevere/Merlin Gwen/Merlin


**Pairing: Arthur/Gwen, but mostly Gwen/Merlin**

**This will basically be a collection of drabbles, just like my Armione fic. Thanks for reading guys!**

**Disclaimer: BBC owns Merlin**

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Chapter one:_ With all the Years Between Us, You Know I'd Never Lie_

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Years of sitting on the throne listening to peasants has not dulled Queen Guinevere's sharp mind. It has not loosened her senses, or slowed her quick thoughts. If anything, she is more alert, more witty, more everything. She looks at the peasants – she doesn't know when she used to use a downtrodden word to describe what she once was – and misses it. Misses the simple one roomed house she lived in, misses just walking about the town, unconcerned of danger or poisoning or assassination attempts on her life (because in Camelot there is never a dull moment) Misses wandering the market place all afternoon on her day off, misses the sweet smelling lilac flowers that she could pick from the meadow just outside the palace walls.

She _misses_ being _Gwen._

She misses being herself. Being the girl in the purple dress. The girl with the frizzy hair, the handmaiden, the blacksmith's daughter. She knows in theory she is still herself, but she definitely doesn't feel like it. She's not Gwen anymore – she`s a Pendragon, she's a Queen, she's Arthur's wife, she's a Head of State, she's Guinevere.

She's not Gwen, not anymore.

So she clings to Merlin sometimes, during certain periods of her life that she'd trade anything to be the girl she used to be. The girl she'd been when she met Merlin. The one who wanted to marry an ordinary man. The girl who had admittedly had a huge crush on sweet little Merlin. The girl who couldn't imagine marrying Arthur, who wasn't meant to be a Queen. Merlin is one of the few people who call her 'Gwen anymore'. Leon does when they are alone, or in the presence of no one but Arthur or Merlin. Elyan – may his soul rest in peace – used to.

She looks at her reflection and can't find herself in the dead eyes, clinging dress and skin. This is a Queen, a noble woman's face, and Tom's daughter was never meant to be any of these things. She was supposed to grow and be loved by the mother who died when she was small and marry a poor, but kind man – perhaps a baker, or even better, a blacksmith – and bear five children because that was her _dream, _her _ideal_, her _should-have-been_.

Instead, here she is. Sure, she doesn't have to worry about money, or expenses, or maintaining her small abode and how's she ever going to afford to fix that leaky roof? Now she has what every girl wishes for once in her life – she's a princess. Well, she rights herself sarcastically; technically she's a Queen, but whatever. She married her dashing, handsome and courageous Prince and became a Queen and loved so fiercely that she would have sacrificed anything for Camelot or for Arthur. She became what she thought she wanted – and left behind what had done her well for so many years.

So she lived the typical female fantasy – and where has that left her?

Queen Guinevere Pendragon is left with a Palace full of people she barely knows? With a cold bed, and extra closet space filled with Arthur's things that she doesn't have the strength to be rid of. With an empty throne that nobody has the nerve to take down yet? One that sits beside hers, mocking her widowed status.

It's at times like these when she terribly misses Morgana. Not the recent, twisted malicious Morgana but her friend that she held close during the terrors of the night, she girl who wore those beautiful dresses, who fretted about hair and despised any type of death. She needs to speak to someone, speak to anyone – and the one person she can speak to, she doesn't know if she should.

_Merlin._

The quiet, wise and more-often-than-not depressed manservant turned sorcerer. Other than the Kingdom, Merlin occupies her mind often. She stands by him, supports him when he reveals his magic to the court. Stand at his side when people throw ridicule at him, when they treat him with suspicion, as if he's murdered a man in cold blood instead of dutifully serve the Kingdom all these long years. She forcefully removes a Knight's hand that grips Merlin when he moves to touch her. She comforts him when he feels mistrusted, mistreated and unwanted. She assures him that _she _trusts him, _she _will deal with the people and that _she _wants him.

She quiets the people with a stern look that is rare to cross her face, a fierce look in her eye as she signs her name in loopy, precise scrawl on the bottom of the decree. Against the wishes of her advisors – she's never really listened to them much anyway, all she ever needed was Gaius, Merlin and Arthur – and makes a public announcement to the people.

She stands above them, glistening like a jewel and everyone is mesmerized by the strong woman who is their sovereign. Merlin stands within the crowd waiting to hear her big announcement, disguised and listens to the warrior queen's words. Her words are fierce, her hair seems to crackle with electricity, and she's never been more stunning than she is now.

"I have gone against history, against the late King's decree's in doing this – and for that, you must forgive me. I am a Queen, but most of all, I am a friend, and I am a human being. The King's life was saved using magic numerous times; it was magic that kept him here for so long. Arthur did not meet his death because of magic – he met his death because of hate. His life was forfeit because of a feud that has turned malicious, that has ripped families apart and killed countless innocents." She pauses, looking at all the faces of her subjects, reading the fear, confusion and suspicion there. "Hear me now, my subjects, my friends, my people – hear this and bear it with no ill will: Magic is not evil." A murmur breaks out across the crowd, and Gwen swallows, steadying her nerves. "What I speak is the truth. Magic is a weapon and a weapon can be wielded by the good and the evil, can be used to both help and hurt." She pauses and smiles warmly. "There is no magic in evil, only in the hearts of men."

Merlin feels a rush of adrenaline gallop through his veins as his own words are echoed back to him, from the last person - okay maybe not last, but close – he ever thought would say those words.

"And it is with this knowledge, that I, Queen Guinevere Pendragon of Camelot, have signed an official royal decree, lifting the ban on both the use of sorcery, and the death penalty in regards to the practice of sorcery." Alarmed cries ring out, but some cries, Merlin notes with a source of pride, hold joy and excitement. "I will not condemn and murder innocents, not now, when peace has finally arrived with the death of Morgana. Not now, when my husband – and yours – died fighting for us, for _all_ of us."

Cheering breaks out from about half the people there, and other clap wearily, egged on by peer pressure and the actions of the large mass, some cry out in rage, some mother's usher their children away, hurrying back towards the safety of their narrow minded home.

Merlin – disguised as a middle aged man – looks back up to the balcony, worried that Gwen will be downtrodden by the rejection of the people. His eyes meet a very different site indeed. His eyes meet hers, and she looks every bit the Queen that Camelot deserved.

And suddenly, Merlin is cheering along with the rest of him, arms raised above his head.

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_end chapter one_

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**so, R&R? pretty please with a merlin on top?**


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